


Albatross in Flight

by cerie



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, engagements, episode tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-21
Updated: 2012-08-21
Packaged: 2017-11-12 13:49:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/491747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerie/pseuds/cerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam/Jack, Sam/Pete.  <i>She's not entirely convinced but she's willing to take a shot at making her own happiness for once.</i></p>
<p>Set during the events of 8x07 "Affinity" with flashbacks to 7x13 "Grace."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Albatross in Flight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Callie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callie/gifts).



> Written for [Callie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Callie) and banged out pretty fast for a one-off plot bunny. I hope you like it and congrats on surviving summer term.

For such a small thing, the box displaces an awful lot of matter. It’s like there’s an energy field surrounding the little velvet box sitting on her desk and Sam goes out of her way to avoid it. She cleans the kitchen (even though it’s already clean) and straightens her living room. She waters the plants. She even goes and cleans the gutters out even though it’s overcast and threatening rain because she does _not_ want to deal with that little box and what it means.

When Pete proposed, Sam hadn’t really known what to do. He’d made an earnest overture and offered to transfer from Denver to Colorado Springs to be closer to her and said he was sure, more sure about this than anything in his entire life. Sam guesses that most women given such a sweet, honest proposal from a loving, fun and trusting man would leap at the opportunity to wear the ring and hire a caterer and turn dreams into reality but she just shut down and went into complete shock. She hadn’t given him an answer one way or the other and the only real reaction she’d had was to say “oh my God,” and get the heck out of Dodge.

And then the cleaning started. Some of it had been necessary; she likes to catch up on cleaning during her rare on-world times and it just makes her feel content to have a neat house with everything in order. Soon, though, it had turned into procrastination and it is only at the point where she is seriously contemplating pressure washing the siding that she knows something has to give. She has to deal with the ring, somehow. Besides, her notes are in there occupying space under the force field.

She’s got a presentation on the decay rate of naquadriah that’s due sometime in the next week and all her notes are in her home office. Instead of being an adult and sitting down to work on it, she putters around until she’s cleaned her baseboards and re-organized her closet by color and then dashes in, grabs the notes, and takes them with her laptop back to the mountain. It’s not the most mature option but it’s only been a day. Surely a woman is allowed to take a few days to think over what is, arguably, one of the most important romantic and legal decisions of her life, isn’t she?

Time stretches out into infinity under the mountain and always has. Sam’s halfway considered testing to see if the Stargate causes some sort of dilation field as a side effect of constant wormhole travel but she knows, deep down, that there’s no fancy scientific explanation for the way she gets engrossed in her work. It might be Greek (or Ancient) to most people, but to Samantha Carter, each variable is a note in a beautiful, ever-changing symphony and she is content to analyze decay rates and rebuild hyperdrive engines until the sun goes supernova. In fact, if it happens in her lifetime, she’s probably going to be the one on call.

Daniel comes by when she’s wrist deep in some sort of cloaking device she’s trying to reverse-engineer from old Goa’uld naquadah-dependent technology and while he sputters for a moment and tries to ask her about going down to the commissary with him for food, he eventually gives up and leaves her to her own devices. Her phone rings several times, the high-pitched chirp innocuous on most days but downright maddening today. She wonders what the difference is and almost as soon as she has the thought, she has the answer. She’s under the mountain today so, the only person calling her on _that_ phone would be Pete. 

Oh.

She brushes aside the epiphany and goes back to work, dissecting bits of metal with all the care of a neurosurgeon.

***

Sam’s not sure how much more time has passed since the last round of phone calls but when her phone starts up again, she picks it up and blindly hurls it across the room. What she expects to hear is the crunch of the cheap plastic clamshell flung into a wider angle than ever intended by its designers and what she hears instead is a particularly-startled shout and the slap of metal and plastic smacking an outstretched hand.

“Jeez, Carter, you planning to try out for the Sox in the off season? Haven’t seen heat like that in a while.” Sam presses her lips together and shakes her head and while she should be embarrassed, she finds she’s just amused and relieved that it’s the general instead of Daniel walking straight into her fastball. Jack toys with her phone for a moment, opening and closing the screen and Sam lets out a tense and not-exactly-polite sigh.

“Sir? Was there something you needed?” 

Jack gives her this “aw shucks” look that he uses off world to make people think he’s dumber than he actually is but Sam doesn’t buy it. He’s actually very busy now that he’s a general and the base commander and if he’s come to see her and it’s not official business, it means he’s putting off something else and making time for her. Sam never knows what to make of that and any attempts to probe for a deeper meaning gets blank stares and blank walls. Jack O’Neill is nothing if not difficult to read.

“I was just wondering why you’re here on a Saturday, is all. Saw your car in the lot when I was heading home and...” The sentence merely stops there and Sam knows better whether or not to ask how it ends. She’s grown incredibly used to filling in Jack O’Neill’s blanks over the past eight years and the end of that sentence is something they’re not allowed to talk about. Sam wonders if she can even talk about it now, she’s kept it locked down and held tight for so long and instead of answering, she holds out her palm for the phone. Jack drops it there unceremoniously but his hand lingers for a moment, fingers brushing against the bare skin of her wrist so imperceptibly that most people would have missed it.

Samantha Carter is not most people.

“I thought I would take advantage of being planetside, sir, and catch up on a few of my research projects. I simply lost track of time.” Jack doesn’t seem to like her bullshit answer but that’s all right, since Sam’s not terribly convinced of it herself. The engagement ring is still an albatross around her neck even though it’s miles away at her house and she wonders how it’s going to feel when it’s on her finger. She suspects she won’t be able to put it on until she has a solid answer, one way or another, and that frightens her more than anything else has lately.

“Uh huh. By the way, you’ve got thirty-seven missed calls. You might want to work on that.”

Sam gives him a tense smile. “I’ll take it under advisement, sir. Was there anything else?”

Jack doesn’t say anything out loud but he watches her for a moment and Sam feels the fine hairs on her arms stand on end. His eyes are dark and unreadable and they flick up and down and make her excessively grateful that she’s standing behind a lab bench. His lips part and there’s a hint of a five o’clock shadow on his jaw and Sam can’t stop _staring_ at him. It’s wrong, and she knows that, but her incredibly juvenile defense is that he started it. She goes to speak but her mouth is dry and her tongue is clumsy and before she can croak out anything, he grins and shakes his head.

“Nope. Carry on, Carter.”

Sam holds her breath until he turns his back and leaves and once the heavy door of her lab slides shut, she puts her head down on her bench and lets out a long, slow breath to break the tension. Just as she feels like she might be able to do something other than think about Jack stripping her bare with just his eyes, the phone rings.

She doesn’t answer.

***

When Sam finally leaves the base, it’s past midnight and long past when Pete should be in bed. It’s a coward’s way out, she guesses, but she calls him in hopes that she’ll catch his voicemail and she can leave a message about how she was working all day, lost track of time, no signal on base, etc. etc. She doesn’t expect him to actually answer the phone with a sleep-roughened voice laced with panic.

“Sam? Is that you? I was worried sick. We had reservations and you never showed. I tried calling the house and your cell but you didn’t pick up. What happened?” Damn. Sam had actually forgotten about the dinner reservations entirely because no matter her conflicted feelings on the matter of getting married, she wouldn’t break a date without calling with plenty of advance warning. She guesses an apology is in order but she feels jangled from her encounter with Jack and having worked all day and all she manages is a half-whispered, “sorry.” Pete seems to accept that easily enough and Sam thinks she’s lucky. Her job allows her to have plenty of unaccounted solo time that most women in long-term relationships don’t get the luxury of having.

“Something came up at work. Before you ask, it’s classified.” Pete’s question dies in his throat and Sam wonders how many times she’ll have to explain that to him. She imagines he’s got some understanding of things being classified considering he works in law enforcement but that doesn’t stop him from asking about top secret missions in the middle of the park or the grocery store or anywhere else that is completely not appropriate. Sam suppresses a sigh and leans against her car. While it’s spring, it’s still early spring and there’s a chill late at night. It’s as good as an excuse as any to get out of this call.

“Pete? Can I let you go? It’s late and you know I don’t like talking and driving.” He seems to buy this as an excuse and Sam closes the phone to end the call. She contemplates turning it off entirely but hesitates over the power button. The SGC might need her and it’s bad form to ignore their hails so she compromises and sets it to vibrate instead. She sleeps lightly and there’s very little chance they’ll need her for anything unless it’s an emergency and then, well, she won’t be sleeping anyway.

When she gets home, she doesn’t take the time to hang her jacket up in the closet or put her laptop and notes away. She considers the kitchen for a moment, simultaneously trying to decide when was the last time she ate and whether or not she’s hungry before deciding it’s not worth the effort and stumbling back toward her bedroom instead. Instead of changing into pajamas and turning down the sheets like a normal, adult human, she sprawls diagonally across the bed and falls into a restless, if deep, sleep.

***

 _”You deserve more. I will always be there for you, no matter what. Believe me.”_

_When Sam opens her eyes, she expects the stark halls of the abandoned Prometheus and not rough-hewn logs indicative of a house built by hand. The furniture is just a little off, alien meets 1970s, and she frowns and tries to get her bearings. This isn’t a place she’s ever been before in the waking world but maybe it’s somewhere familiar to her dream-self and she just needs to get acclimated._

_She wanders around the cabin, picking up things here and there to test their weight and establish they’re real and she supposes they are, for a given value of real. She’s convinced she’s dreaming but she hasn’t woken up yet so she clearly hasn’t hit the magic button to eject herself back into reality. She has the sense there’s someone else in the house but she can’t put her finger on why or who. It doesn’t seem like Pete, weirdly, and the house just doesn’t feel like Teal’c or Daniel’s._

_She lays her palm against a closed door and startles when it suddenly swings in to reveal the general and billowing clouds of steam that can only mean a shower. It’s strange that there’s a huge shower in here with multiple jets and high pressure and infinite hot water but it’s a dream and her dream and she guesses this bathroom can be bigger on the inside if she wants it to be. She doesn’t dare look below Jack’s shoulders but there’s warm, tan skin and the beginning of coarse hair that she knows, from experience, trails down an enticing path toward his hips. He’s not wearing anything other than his dog tags and she’s still wearing her BDUs from the day before, but it doesn’t seem to matter. His fingers are just as efficient on her clothes as she’d imagined they would be (and is imagining now, it seems. She has a lot of external awareness to be dreaming and maybe that’s a good thing because if this is her only chance, she wants to remember every detail.) and once he’s done, he presses her back into the shower._

_Jack hauls one of her legs over his hip and Sam groans, but it’s lost in the echo of water hitting the tiled shower floor. She wants to question how he’s holding her up when both his knees are shot but the question dies in her throat when she feels his cock nudging at her entrance and his teeth scraping against the hollow of her throat. When she whimpers, it’s a strangled, mournful sound and Jack must take pity on her because two things happen: he tips his face up and catches her mouth in a proper kiss and he glides home, hitting her deep._

_“Samantha. Believe me.”_

Sam wakes up, drenched in sweat, and someone’s pounding at the door.

Holy. Hannah.

***

Sam takes a few moments to gather her wits and finger-comb her hair and when she finally opens the door, it’s Pete on her stoop with coffee in one hand and a bag from her favorite bakery in the other. She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes because as thoughtful as the gesture is, she’s still shaken from the dream that did _not_ star her almost-fiance and she feels dirty, somehow, being affectionate with Pete when she’d just been with Jack.

She lets him in and nods toward the table. Pete’s been here enough times that he feels at home even if Sam doesn’t always feel comfortable letting him in and he settles in his usual chair and lays out their breakfast. She’s halfway through a bear claw before he says something that startles her enough to make her choke and she stumbles toward the sink for water before gracing him with a response.

“No, I’m still thinking. It’s a very important decision, Pete, and I want to make sure I’m not rushing into anything.”

She’s still hacking up pastry when Pete clears his throat and starts to speak and in deference to him, Sam keeps her back turned. It’s got to be hard to have conversations like this even if someone’s not an emotional cripple like she and Jack are and she owes Pete the respect to make it as easy as possible. Ripping off a band-aid, right? Quick and relatively painless.

“Well. I’m not a patient man, Sam, and I’m worried. You haven’t been calling me since we talked about it and you looked shocked I even turned up this morning. I love you. I don’t understand why this can’t just be easy. Don’t you love me?”

She wants to say, yes, absolutely, let’s go get that ring and start making wedding plans but she can’t. Her hands curl around the counter until her knuckles go white and she huffs in frustration, both with Pete, who’s pressuring her, and with herself, because she can’t decide what she wants and just ask for it. She’s a grown woman. She’s saved the world a half dozen times and knows more and has seen more than most world-class scientists ever see in a lifetime of work. She can take apart an Asgard generator and put it back together.

Why can’t she do _this?_

“Of course I do. I just...I need time. Things are stressful and I want to make sure this gets my full attention when I think about it. I haven’t had the luxury.”

She hears footsteps but she doesn’t look up until she hears the creak of her door swinging in and Pete’s voice, soft.

“Why don’t you just let me know when you’ve figured it out?”

Sam nods, mutely, and makes a mental note to oil her hinges the next time she’s earthbound and in want of something to do.

***

After Pete leaves, she goes into her office and snatches up the ring and shoves it into her bag. If she’s going to make a decision about it, she has to stop avoiding it, and maybe if it’s with her every day that will force her to deal with the problem. That done, she showers, cold, and dresses in civilian clothes. There’s no way she wants to face Jack after last night’s dream and maybe getting out and about will do her some good.

She drives around aimlessly for a little while before ending up in the neighborhood where they’ve allowed Teal’c to live off base and, on a lark, she decides to see if he’s home. There’s nobody more steadying and comforting in her life than Teal’c and she’s pleased to find him having just finished kel’nor’eem and moving gracefully around the small space in some sort of Jaffa-inspired tai chi.

“Hi. Am I bothering you? I was in the neighborhood and I thought I’d drop by and see how you were settling in but if you’re busy, I can go.” Teal’c gives her a slow, patient smile and shakes his head. Teal’c has a way of always making a person feel like there’s all the time in the world and he never pressures. He’s like water, soothing and flowing, but still an agent of change.

“Nonsense, Colonel Carter. I am pleased to have you in my new home. I hear that it is a Tau’ri tradition to bring one a gift to warm the hearth. Have you brought me something?”

Sam laughs and considers pawning the ring off on him as some kind of extravagant housewarming present but instead she pulls it out and sets it on the low table that serves as the focus of this particular room. Teal’c frowns slightly, but says nothing, and invites her to sit beside him on the floor. It’s tricky to navigate it in a skirt but she manages and she taps her fingers lightly against the inlaid glass of his table.

“It is a gift from Pete Shanahan, is it not?” Sam nods and opens the box. The diamond winks at them from a bed of black velvet and, objectively, it’s incredibly beautiful. It’s a fine cut, good clarity, and in a pinch, she could always use it to start a fire off-world. Still, that’s not the intended use and she bites back the joke in favor of honesty. Teal’c is the least likely person to ever judge her and for that, she’s grateful.

“It is. He proposed to me a few days ago but I haven’t given him an answer yet. I just don’t want to rush things, you know? It’s a very big decision.” She fiddles with a loose thread on her sweater and Teal’c doesn’t say anything. He’s the kind of man who doesn’t need to fill every available second with words and for that, Sam’s grateful. It’s something she’s always liked, not having the pressure to keep talking if she doesn’t feel like it and it occurs to her that aside from Teal’c, there’s only one other man who gives her that. _Jack._ She tosses that thought aside along with the thread.

“It should be easy, but it’s not. How did you know you wanted to marry your wife? Did you think about it for a long time?”

Teal’c shakes his head and shifts to stand before offering her a hand up. While it might feel patronizing from someone else, it doesn’t from him, and on an impulse she slides into his arms and presses her face against his chest. If he’s startled, Teal’c doesn’t let it show and after a few moments, he slides his arms around her in a warm, loving embrace.

“Your heart will tell you the right way to go, Samantha Carter, but I am afraid you will let your mind drown it out.”

When she pulls away, her eyes are a little wet but her heart is a whole lot lighter.

***

Sam gets bogged down in presentations and work for the next few days and they all seem to blur together. She hasn’t called Pete and he hasn’t called her but she doesn’t feel like anything’s changed from the status quo. She’s never been the kind of girl who needs a man to call her on a regular basis to feel secure and it’s just as well, because she’s never going to be the kind of woman to return that favor to the man in her life.

She’s been staring at a half-finished report for what feels like an eternity when she’s startled by a knock at the door and the general’s tall form blocking the light. He gives her a little grin and settles on a stool opposite her and Sam can tell he’s barely refraining from spinning around like a little boy because some things never change. He might have stars on his shoulders, but Jack O’Neill is still a child at heart.

“I never thought I’d hear myself utter these words but, I need that report.”

Sam starts and rifles through her notes. She’s bluffing and what’s worse, they both know it. She gives him a muttered excuse about how she’ll have it on his desk in the morning and Jack gives her a friendly reminder that it is, in fact, the morning. Sam is mortified, especially because the ring is sitting there in plain sight and Jack’s reaching for it.

“Pete gave me that.”

Jack opens the box and examines the ring for a moment before putting it back on her desk. “You know, Carter, people usually wear these on their fingers.” She nods and tells him about how she hasn’t made a decision yet when it occurs to her. Maybe she should ask him the same thing she asked Teal’c. Somehow, though, it turns into asking about kids, raising them and ends up in a field of mines when Charlie comes up.

As Jack turns to leave, Sam wants to kick herself. So much for following her heart.

***

Sam isn’t sure how she ends up in Jack’s neighborhood instead of her own but she sits out in front of his house and watches while moms and dads get home from work and children play in the yard and then get called in for dinner. When the streetlights turn on, she shuts off her engine and pockets her keys before walking up his driveway.

When she knocks at the door, she hears a shout from above and looks up to find Jack on the roof with his telescope. He doesn’t go up as often as he used to in the old days and while Sam suspects it’s his knees bothering him, she knows better than to mention it. Jack doesn’t like reminders that he’s no longer fit for field duty and that’s just as much of one as the stars on his shoulders.

Tonight, though, the only stars are in the sky and Sam climbs the roof and settles next to him. It’s a tight fit and she keeps close, her jean-clad leg brushing against his. Jack occasionally marks things on a star chart next to him and after about twenty minutes or so of amicable silence, Sam gulps and decides to take the plunge.

“I’m sorry about earlier, sir. I didn’t mean to mention your son.”

Jack snaps his head up and his eyes are dark, but wounded. The hurt clears and he’s inscrutable again and Sam just wants to scream. There’s nothing wrong with emotion in _general_ just the emotions between them, and if he bottles up everything, he’s going to be a sad and bitter man. She wants to tell him that and she can’t, so she swipes his beer and takes a long pull instead. Jack says nothing. He always says nothing.

It makes her angry. After eight years of saving the world together and being a team and being in _love_ , Jack still never says anything unless he’s held at gunpoint. Even then, he’s cryptic, and she would tell Pete no, emphatically, if he’d just let her know there was a chance for them, no matter how small. She thinks about the Jack in her dream and the Jack on the _Prometheus_ , that Jack who says he’ll always be there for her, and she wonders if that’s even the case. Wonders if her faith is all in vain.

“Look, I shouldn’t have even come here. I just wanted to say I was sorry for bringing it up so casually and I hope you can forgive me. I know it’s a sore spot and I promise you, I didn’t do it with the intention to hurt you. I was just...sir?”

In the few moments she’s been babbling, Jack’s stood up and wrapped his arm around her waist to drag her close to him. His lips are dangerously close to her ear and when he speaks, she feels his breath hot against sensitive skin. She shivers and doesn’t try to hold it back because this is the closest they’ve ever come to breaking the regs and taking things out of the room and if this is Jack’s way of giving her a signal, she wants to be looking for it with eyes open.

“I don’t want you to say yes, Carter. It’s selfish, but I don’t want it.”

He doesn’t elaborate any further and Sam reluctantly extricates herself after a few moments when it seems like Jack isn’t going to say anything else. She carefully picks her way back down the ladder and when she’s on solid ground again, she spots him as he does the same. Jack doesn’t say anything but she knows he’s grateful she did; a fall now would probably land him in the hospital for a few days getting his ACL repaired.

Sam hooks her thumb back toward her car and Jack catches it in midair before dragging it to his lips to kiss. He doesn’t technically invite her in but wordless invitations are good enough when people have known each other as long as she and Jack have and she feels like, this time, there’s something different. This is the most he’s ever revealed to her about his feelings and while she hates she had to hurt him to make it happen, she’s not sorry for the result.

Jack may be flying a desk these days but his arms are still sinewy and strong as he pushes her back toward his bedroom and there’s calluses on his hands that make Sam shiver as he touches her. Pete’s hands, while not soft, aren’t indicative of a hard life on the front lines like Jack’s and there’s something about the way she burns when Jack touches her that’s like nothing she’s ever experienced before. It’s not even that he’s so experienced. He’s older than her, certainly, but neither of them are virgins and there’s only so many ways to make one and one equal two. 

No, it’s the intensity. Jack is _intense_ , with dark eyes that burn hot and hungry as she strips her clothes. She might as well be wearing expensive lingerie instead of jeans and a t-shirt the way Jack watches her and while Sam’s not shy about her body, she’s really not the sex kitten type. It doesn’t matter, in the end, because when she reaches out to touch the hem of his t-shirt, Jack pushes her hand away and strips the shirt in one fluid movement before pushing her back against the bed. She’s at the edge, knees parted and feet on the floor and Jack steps between her legs and drags her close, grinding against her hard enough to make her whimper. When he pulls away, she can see there’s a wet patch against the front of his jeans and she whimpers all over again.

Jack kneels and leans forward enough to slide her legs over his shoulders. When she feels his lips suck a mark against her left thigh, Sam tosses her head back and fists her hands in his sheets and when she feels his teeth, she lets out a low, threatening hiss that means ifyoudon’tgivemesomethingiwillkillyou. Jack seems to get the hint and nuzzles at her to spread her thighs wider and then his mouth fits over her clitoris, sucking and teasing and he occasionally breaks away to slide his tongue into her and to spread her wide with one, then two, then three fingers while his thumb’s working against her.

When she comes, Sam isn’t polite. She thrashes against the bed and feels the scrape of Jack’s stubble and the hard pressure of his nose and chin against her pubic bone. His fingers are still curled deep inside her even when she’s just pulsing with aftershocks and it’s only when she’s dripping with sweat and completely boneless that he pulls them away. She lays there for a beat and sits up, scrubbing a hand through her hair before dragging him down for a long kiss.

It’s the sort of kiss that never really breaks. Even when they breathe, it’s together, and Sam’s never felt more in tune with her own body or with someone else before. It’s every cliche about hearts beating in time and the one and all the fairy tales and she thinks, finally, maybe she can be happy without giving up the one thing she’s ever really wanted for herself, the one thing she’s set her sights on and deemed impossible. Jack pulls back and gives her a sweet, tender look and she thinks he’s about to say something important when the phone rings.

“O’Neill? Uh huh. Can it _wait_ , Kendrick? I see. I’ll be there in a moment.”

Jack at least has the decency to look apologetic when he tells her Teal’c’s in trouble and they have to make double-time to the mountain. Oh, and for her to come staggering in a little later, just for appearances’ sake.

Sam is tired of appearances.

***

In the end, Sam isn’t sure why she says yes. They’ve had a pumped few days, between Teal’c running off, Teal’c being framed for murder, Teal’c and Daniel being held captive. It’s only with Pete’s help that they ferret out the rogue NID agents behind it and she’s grateful to him. He might not be Jack O’Neill, savior of Abydos and countless worlds, but Pete’s a hero in his own right and she guesses she just gets caught up in the drama of it all and says yes.

He kisses her, ecstatic as always, but the heat isn’t there. Maybe that’s not what marriage is about anyway, heat and chemistry and mixed signals and never knowing where the other person stands but maybe it’s about being steady, dependable and always there. Pete’s always there. Pete will be a good, loving husband and she should be proud to wear his ring, not have it feel like an albatross around her neck and a stone in her heart.

She isn’t entirely convinced but she’s willing to take a shot at making her own happiness for once.


End file.
